A letter to the post man

Damian turned back to me, his grip on my hand tightening. "Stay close," he said, his voice sharp with urgency. "We're getting out of here."

Why was I listening to him? The police were here—my rescue was just a door away. I could see Nath again, my sister, my beloved brother.

Yet, I didn't move.

Instead, I clung to Damian's side, my heartbeat thundering in my chest. I didn't know why, but something deep inside me told me to follow him—my kidnapper.

As I stared at his face, shadowed by the flickering light from outside, my mind was a whirlwind of questions. Questions only he could answer.

I didn't want the police to capture him.

It didn't make sense, but Damian was the only one who had treated me kindly in the midst of this nightmare. Why? I couldn't fathom it.

What was this twisted game they'd been playing? Why had I been taken in the first place?

And who was that woman?

"Hurry!" he shouted, snapping me from my thoughts.

I turned and followed him, feet pounding against the cold earth. Behind us, I caught a glimpse of Nath and Alex, their eyes scanning the shadows, searching for me.

Damian led me into the woods, his pace relentless. The air was sharp and cold, biting against my skin as we climbed higher into the dense trees. Finally, we stopped on a rocky ledge overlooking the scene below.

From this vantage point, I could see Damian's men being dragged away in handcuffs. The rage on Nath's face was unmistakable as he shouted at the captured men. "Where is she?!" His voice echoed, sharp and commanding.

The men refused to speak.

"They'll come after you," I whispered to Damian.

"I know," he replied, his tone devoid of fear.

"I won't let them," I said, my voice trembling yet firm.

He glanced at me, a mixture of confusion and curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Why did you listen to me?"

"I want to know the truth," I admitted. "And… I don't want them to catch you."

The truth was, if the police caught Damian, I wouldn't have the chance to prove my innocence—or his. I knew he wasn't blameless. He had punished me, tormented me. Yet, something in my gut told me there was more to this.

I had missed Nath terribly, but I couldn't let him or anyone else see me yet—not until I set things right.

Damian called me over. "We'll stay in the woods tonight. It's safer here."

We found a small clearing, hidden from view. He gathered wood for a fire while I stood shivering in the cool night air. He noticed and shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

I glanced down at myself. I was still in the sleek, red dress they'd made me wear. It felt so out of place here, in the middle of the wilderness.

"Thank you," I murmured, pulling the jacket tighter around me.

We sat by the fire, the silence between us thick and uneasy. The crackling flames cast flickering shadows across his face, making his features seem sharper, more severe.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Damian… why did you capture me?"

He didn't respond at first, his gaze locked on the flames. Then he turned to me, his expression unreadable.

"We believed you schemed against us," he said, his voice low and strained. "You stole a large sum of money from us—money we worked hard for. My brother lost his life trying to track you down."

His words hit me like a blow.

"You passed him over with your car," he added, his voice breaking slightly.

I felt the blood drain from my face. "I—what?"

Damian's eyes darkened, the pain evident in his voice. "It was you. We had proof. A photograph of you at the scene."

My breath caught in my throat. I had never done anything like that. I couldn't even fathom it.

"Why do you think it was me?" I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Because of this," he said, pulling a photograph from his pocket.

He handed it to me, and my hands trembled as I took it.

The image staring back at me was like a punch to the gut.

It was me. My face. My blonde hair. The picture was so vivid it felt like staring into a mirror.

Damian's gaze remained fixed on me. Yet, despite everything, I saw doubt flickering in his eyes.

"I didn't do this," I said, my voice breaking.

Damian stared at me, his expression unreadable. But after a long moment, he shook his head, his voice soft but resolute. "I don't believe it's you."

My breath hitched.

"There's something off," he said, his tone measured. "The woman in this photo—she looks like you, but something's missing. The way she carries herself… it doesn't match the person I see sitting in front of me."

I stared at him, stunned.

"If you're telling the truth," Damian continued, "then someone wants us to believe it's you. Someone wants you to take the fall for this."

His words sent a chill down my spine.

"Who could do that?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Someone who knows you. Or someone who knows us."

The weight of his words settled over me like a shroud. If I wasn't the one they were after, then who was? And why did I look exactly like the woman in the photograph?

Damian leaned back, his face shadowed once more. "Tomorrow," he said, "we'll start finding answers. But for now, we need to stay hidden."

I nodded, though my mind was far from rest.